The first signs something was wrong were barely perceptible, but — unlike many middle-aged men — Brian Harris monitored his health closely and promptly went to his GP.

At first, his doctor told him the mild ache in his groin was a urine infection. But after three courses of antibiotics failed to stop his growing discomfort, he was referred for a blood test which revealed his levels of PSA — the protein the prostate gland produces — were slightly raised. A warning he might have prostate cancer, yes, but far from a conclusive diagnosis.

For this, Brian, 68, needed to undergo a transrectal ultrasound guided biopsy — an invasive procedure in which a needle was inserted into the prostate through the wall of the rectum to remove 12 samples.

The medical detection dogs: Canine companions could help save millions of men by identifying their prostate cancer in advance of traditional methods

That, too, failed to confirm he had cancer. It was only after a second, more invasive biopsy — under general anaesthetic when 24 pieces of tissue were removed — that malignant cells were detected.

Two-and-a-half years after his first symptoms, he was finally given the diagnosis. ‘I thought it was the end of my life,’ admits Brian, who is married to Marian, 68.

In 2007, two months after his diagnosis, Brian underwent surgery to remove his prostate and 12 lymph nodes. Although the cancer returned in 2010, requiring radiotherapy, the father-of-two, who has three grandchildren, is now cancer-free.

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But what strikes Brian as much as his good fortune is the time it took for his diagnosis. ‘The biopsies were incredibly intrusive, and there was no guarantee the needle would find anything,’ says Brian, a retired IT consultant from Sittingbourne, Kent. ‘The chances of hitting cancerous tissue are a bit like trying to throw a dart at a bullseye blindfold, and because doctors couldn’t find cancer during that first biopsy, it spread.’

The Mail is campaigning for earlier and easier diagnosis, and Brian knows better than most about an unorthodox but incredibly promising new method being tested.

Marlow: The youngest of the team at 18 months, the Labrador lives with a local family and Bumper, another dog that detects disease. The pair love a game of chase. ‘Marlow was going to be a medical assistance dog for someone with a life-threatening condition, but his strong personality is better suited to disease detection,’ says Dr Claire Guest

Kizzy: The cocker spaniel, nine, has worked for MDD since 2008 and took part in a research paper into how senses work that proved dogs are adept at detecting smells down to parts per trillion. Kizzy also relishes diving into hedges during walks. ‘She is diminutive in size, but not character,’ says Dr Guest. ‘She is cheeky and always trying to problem-solve.’

His son, Rob, 40, is a trainer for Medical Detection Dogs (MDD), a charity that uses ‘bio-detection dogs’ to sniff out diseases. Dogs have an extraordinary sense of smell — 40 times more powerful than humans — and can detect odours at a concentration of one part per trillion; this means they can smell the distinctive smells that different diseases develop at the very earliest stages.

The diseases the charity’s 31 dogs are being trained to detect range from malaria to Parkinson’s, but the focus is on prostate cancer.

Since 2015, Medical Detection Dogs — led by CEO Dr Claire Guest who set up the charity in 2008 with Dr John Church, a retired orthopaedic surgeon — has been working on a prostate cancer clinical trial with Milton Keynes University Hospital NHS Trust.

‘We hope within a couple of years it will confirm previous studies we have conducted that suggest dogs have a 93 per cent success rate,’ says Dr Guest. ‘The PSA test is problematic because of its false positives: three out of four men who receive a positive result won’t have cancer, and the next diagnostic step is to insert a needle into their prostate. Unsurprisingly, many prefer to assume they don’t have the disease and opt out.

Florin: The three-year-old fox red Labrador is the niece of the MDD charity’s founding dog, Daisy (see panel, far right). Florin sniffs 85 per cent of prostate cancer samples accurately. ‘She flew with me to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology to help develop an “electronic nose” to mimic a dog’s sense of smell,’ says Dr Guest

Jobi: Cocker spaniel Jobi — who’s been working at MDD since he was 12 weeks old — loves long country walks, and picking up shoes and hiding them around the house. He lives with former Tory Party leader Iain Duncan Smith and his wife, Betsy, who became a trustee of MDD after she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2009

Kiwi: The Labrador, four, trained to be a guide dog, but changed career direction before actually being placed with a blind person. ‘She is strong-minded and nose-driven, meaning she is easily distracted which is the last thing you want in a guide dog,’ says Dr Guest. ‘But she was perfect for us.’ Kiwi often helps demonstrate MDD’s work

‘If the trial proves our dogs’ reliability in detecting this cancer, it could pave the way for a system to support the current, inadequate system of diagnosing the disease.’

One of the seven dogs assigned to the trial at the charity’s Milton Keynes training centre is Rob’s cocker spaniel, Kizzy, nine.

‘I didn’t know Kizzy when I had cancer, so she hasn’t detected it on me,’ says Brian. ‘But I’ve watched her at work and it’s amazing. If dogs were being used to support the NHS when I got cancer, they could have paved the way for a quicker diagnosis.’

MDD started using its dogs for prostate cancer in 2012 after Dr Guest was contacted by an Italian doctor whose patient had tested negative for the disease, but the doctor had his doubts. Dr Guest recruited Daisy, her Labrador and a trained sniffer dog, to help.

‘Out of eight anonymous urine samples, she detected only his as being cancerous,’ recalls Dr Guest. The doctor called his patient for a second test, which proved positive.

Karry: A Four-year-old black curly-coated retriever/ Labrador cross, Karry enjoys visiting the pub with her owner — where she is rumoured to enjoy munching on the odd pork scratching — and she also likes to go swimming. ‘She just loves going into lakes and rivers with a tennis ball,’ says Dr Guest

Each pot is put on a ‘carousel’ — a stainless steel mechanism with eight arms.

‘We’ve trained the dogs to walk around the carousel before stopping and sitting by a sample they sniff cancer in,’ explains Dr Guest. The dogs tend to be Labradors or cocker spaniels, on account of their curious, sociable natures.

They need a minimum six months’ training, which costs the charity £11,000 per dog, after which most can correctly sniff prostate cancer within a minute. Each dog works a minimum of three shifts a week, which each comprise three 20-minute stints at the carousel.

Dr Guest, awarded an honorary Doctorate of Science in 2011 for her pioneering work, isn’t suggesting her dogs take the place of doctors. ‘But,’ she says, ‘they could offer invaluable supporting information to make an initial diagnosis more accurate, as well as helping doctors develop their ultimate aim: a testing machine that mimics a dog’s meticulous sense of smell.’

For Brian, not to mention the thousands of men with prostate cancer, it would be a welcome advance. ‘The current system needs to improve, and if clever dogs such as Kizzy can help doctors, I am in wholehearted support,’ he says.

FAREWELL TO THE BEST FRIEND WHO SAVED MY LIFE...

Last month, the veterinary oncologist delivered the news I’d been dreading.

Having been diagnosed with a cancerous tumour in her chest just five days earlier, Daisy, my fox red Labrador (pictured above), had taken a turn for the worse. I was desperate to do anything to keep her alive, until the oncologist took me to see her.

Hooked up to an IV drip, she was too weak to do anything but stare at me sadly with the big brown eyes that had stolen my heart 13 years earlier.

Her drip was replaced with medication that would put Daisy to sleep, and I held her in my arms as I told her how sorry I was that, after everything she’d done for people with cancer — including me — she’d succumbed to it, too.

Daisy wasn’t just my soulmate; she was at the forefront of Medical Detection Dogs (MDD) and the first at our charity to sniff prostate cancer urine samples correctly.

Not only that, but in August 2008 she detected a lump in my left breast. She’d started pushing at my chest with a look of anxiety and fear. Afterwards, my left breast felt strangely bruised, and I felt a lump in it. A biopsy confirmed I had cancer.

At the age of 44, I wouldn’t otherwise have received a diagnosis for months. Without Daisy, I wouldn’t be alive.

I met Daisy in 2005 when she was eight weeks old and instantly fell in love. My little shadow during the day, at night, she slept in my bed, waking me in the morning with a nudge. When my 17-year marriage came to an end in 2007, she helped me cope, pawing the crook of my arm, as if to say: ‘Don’t worry, life will get better.’

I was, at the time, already researching the relationship between dogs and smell.

I’d studied psychology at Swansea University, where I specialised in animal behaviour. Then I met a lady whose Dalmatian had become so fixated on a mole on her calf that she went to her GP, who diagnosed a malignant melanoma.

I teamed up with Dr John Church and our study, in the British Medical Journal in 2004, was the first in the world to prove not only that cancer had a smell, but that dogs could detect it.

'I can’t imagine a future without Daisy, but knowing her work has the power to save thousands of lives will offer me comfort as I try,' she says

Most people who visited us were moved to tears after watching Daisy at work, and in 2014 her achievements were recognised with a Blue Cross Medal, awarded to heroic pets.

Daisy kept her extraordinary sense of smell, but became arthritic and retired in 2016. She remained active, and I wasn’t worried when I took her for a routine check last month.

Yet the vet detected a lump in her mammary glands. She was too old to have invasive surgery, so I chose palliative chemotherapy. I’d hoped it would allow her to reach her 14th birthday in August. But four days later she collapsed.

Back in hospital, she was lethargic, her lower lip wobbled and her nose no longer twitched as I approached. For two days, I still hoped she’d survive a few more precious months, until I was told the awful news that her condition had regressed.

I can’t imagine a future without Daisy, but knowing her work has the power to save thousands of lives will offer me comfort as I try.